


Intertwined

by HikariHM



Category: Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Angst, Denial, Fluff and Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikariHM/pseuds/HikariHM
Summary: I'm afraid of the things in my brain,but we can stay here and laugh away the fear…
Relationships: Fleur-de-lis | Lysandre/Platane-hakase | Professor Augustine Sycamore
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Intertwined

He felt the other’s smile pressing against his lips as they kissed. 

And he needed to see him. He always needed that reassurance. So, Lysandre pulled away, only to meet Augustine, with his face lovely blushed, some locks sticking to his forehead thanks to the sweat, and his plumped lips smiling, pleased, as if he couldn’t be happier.

And he was just perfect like that. 

At such moments, Augustine appeared before his eyes like an inexhaustible source of beauty and kindness. Kindness that looked through him, to his very core, that made him feel welcomed in a harsh world like the one they lived in. 

And he felt urge. Urge of being close to him, like they were now. An urge to get through him as well, to make him his, to fuse with his body, to impregnate all of his sweet, indulgent essence on himself. And Lysandre was sure Augustine was completely unaware of the utter power he held over him. If he knew, he’d have mercy and would stop kissing him in such a sweeping way. 

Or wouldn’t pull away, only to reflect his burning blue eyes in his calm grey ones, and smile almost forgiving, as if he knew each of his sins and was to offer his patient absolution. 

“I love you, Lys.”

Sometimes it was too hard to reply without his voice quivering and getting a lump in his throat, so, Lysandre would just reach out for his lips again, stroke softly, desperately his hair, his cheeks, the sides of his body, only to make him feel the passion that burned him from the inside.

But he felt like crumbling in the middle of the kiss. He’d blame it in the aftermath of their climax. It was always easier to say it was because of physical exhaustion, because of all the chemistry of his brain just blowing up and trying to get steady in the afterglow.

So, he left his lips for once, and immediately afterward, he lied his head over Augustine’s chest, wrapped his arms around his waist, and remained there, nestling himself in his way, way smaller body. 

And he held him tight. Getting so high, so drunk on the heat, falling in it. 

“Are you feeling tired already?” Augustine asked, softly, delicately, after what might have been a whole eternity spent silent, in quiet expectation. 

Lysandre knew how needy Augustine could get to be sometimes, how it could sadden him if he wasn’t taken care of. For that, he always liked to pay attention to him in the aftermath. To hug him tight. To pet his dark hair, get lost in each curl, while they talked lots and lots about everything and nothing at the same time. To spoil him. To treat Augustine as what he was; deserving. Beautiful. Magical.

But that time, he felt so overflowed with love and infatuation and utter adoration and bitterness, all at the same time, that he only managed to nod. 

“Want to sleep right away?”

What did it feel as if the second he opened his mouth he would cry?

Again, squeezing tighter, Lysandre just nodded. And if he was afraid that Augustine could get freaked out over the sudden change of mood, from one of their usual heated encounters to such utter yet intimate silence, he only chuckled with that melodic voice of his.

“Alright, Lys.”

He pecked his forehead with the delicacy one only saves for the cherished one. 

“Goodnight, then, my love.”

But Augustine was so understanding, so achingly understanding. More than he deserved to be understood.

And the soothing motions of his fingers petting his messy hair, tracing paths along his back and spine, the weak scent of his body, the sensation of skin pressed against skin, of their feet touching, was enough to keep him at ease and distracted for a while.

Yet, slowly, little by little, Augustine’s motions became slower and slower, just as his breath became steadier. 

And suddenly, with a sigh, he stopped. 

He fell asleep. 

How much Lysandre envied that ability to fall asleep like that. Without answers to the questions he obviously wanted to ask but chose not to. Just assuming things. Ignoring everything that was haunting.

Such easiness was almost contagious. From the outside, Lysandre felt safe. Safe from the harsh world. Safe from everything that was ugly and terrible. Safe there, on their bed, under the sheets, naked, clinging to the man he loved.

But on the inside...

His own thoughts sometimes really didn’t leave him alone. Not even at moments like that when he should feel happy and pleased.

He had had a lot of... bad thoughts, lately. 

That feeling of dread, of despair, of sheer anger and ire took over him all the time, each time more frequently.

That world was horrible. People were miserable. Filthy. No matter how hard one tried to help, to change things, to give to the unfortunate, to stop those who only took from others, people always found a way to ruin everything. To be selfish, to feel entitled to be so and harm others. They cynically played victims. And each time came up with worse ways to fuck up other’s efforts. 

People didn’t understand. People never wanted to change. People always got corrupted. People were evil by nature, only a few, like him, taught to be good. 

He was so sick tired of all that, of watching each day how people did bad things to others, proving him right when he said there was no redemption, that people were never to change. And he... he wanted so desperately to end it. To give all of those selfish fools what they truly deserved.

He urged to end it. So all of the rage that now was staining the sweetness of his moments shared with Augustine could disappear for once and for all. 

And...

He even knew how to. 

Just one shot and all the filth would be swept away from the world. Only beauty would remain. Only the wealthy, people who wouldn’t have the need to take from others. People who didn’t know what need was, that wouldn’t get corrupted by it. And the stupid, the problematic, the harmful, the miserable would be forever gone. 

The plan was perfect… until Augustine was added to the equation.

He’d oppose for sure. He was too kind to think about himself first. He’d prioritize the filth, would tell him everyone deserved a chance, that people could change, that there was kindness in that world, kindness that made it worth living. Because Augustine sometimes just was like a pure angel playing in the dirt, unaware of that. 

And that enraged and disturbed Lysandre.

What if... what if he became one of them? What if he got corrupted, just like everyone else eventually did? What if the greed blinded him at some point? What if the world made him think he should stand by their sides? What if everyone convinced him to leave such an ‘extremist’ person like him? What if they ruined his sheer, pure beauty?

Lysandre couldn’t allow that. 

So. The method had to be quick and not painful. So, Augustine wouldn’t suffer just in case his sometimes naïve freewill told him to oppose. He’d vanish like the flicker of an eye, and...

... And Lysandre realized the nature of what he was thinking, contrasted with the current position he was in. And he felt terrified. Terrified of the things in his brain. 

As he grew only more certain that Augustine would oppose, he got numb. So numb. And Augustine’s warm body wasn’t enough to make him feel alive and safe anymore. He couldn’t fake he felt fine any longer, that the anger to that world wasn’t changing his moods permanently, rotting his sanity. Not when he was thinking of harming Augustine. Hence, harming himself. 

He tried to breathe in and out to calm himself. To synchronize their breaths. But nothing seemed to be enough to make the flames of his thoughts die down.

And it started to make him mad. To make him feel as if losing his mind. To make him feel rage and ire and hatred run over each vain of his numbed body. 

And, he wanted to move. To wake Augustine up. To tell him how afraid of himself he was. To spit all the truth of what he was plotting to do. To make him drink and taste all of those ugly thoughts that he couldn’t stand to have inside his mind anymore, so he could cure them or at least get sick together. 

But he couldn’t.

Lately, he had been putting so many worries upon him. Giving so little explanation of his actions. Dropping harsh ideas to his mind without elaborating. Venting to him without stopping to check out how he was. And he wanted Augustine to rest. Because he was afraid that if he pinned another worry, another wish, another expectation on him, he’d be harmed. Badly harmed. In a way that only a man like Augustine could be harmed. And of course, he didn’t want his clumsy, sweet and foolishly happy Professor to crumble, to give in to the pressure, to be broken by the exposure to the ugliness of the world, because he wouldn’t be able to take it.

Augustine suddenly removed in his place. And, after some seconds, he even chuckled.

“Your hair is in my mouth.”

His throat felt rustled the moment he tried to speak. 

“Sorry…”

‘… _For thinking of killing everyone, you included. For wanting all of this to be over. For hating this world. For hating myself._ ’

“It’s fine...” he yawned, so unaware that it hurt.

His thin arms hugged him tighter. 

“You can’t sleep?”

Lysandre squeezed his lips shut. His hands began to shake. And from his eyes, bitter, silent tears fell.

And he only shook his head. 

“It’s okay, Lys. It’s okay...”

It wasn’t. As understanding as Augustine was. It wasn’t okay. 

And he succumbed to that inexhaustible source of kindness and beauty, while crying silently, trying to pretend Augustine wouldn’t realize it, as well as Augustine pretended he didn’t, as if that way the issue they both knew that existed, but didn’t dare to talk about out loud, wasn’t real.

In such a state of vulnerability, of fear, Lysandre thought that maybe it was better off to start distancing Augustine from himself before he could do anything to him. But at the same time, he felt the overwhelming, filthy and selfish desire of keeping him all by himself, without caring where that could lead.

“If there’s something you want to talk about…” he suggested lazily. “You know I’m here.”

A shake of the head, as each time Lysandre suggested something potentially bad, was enough to stop Augustine from pushing on a matter that should be pushed. 

And as they were intertwined, Augustine decided not to talk about it, but keep himself in his cruel denial about who the man lying between his arms truly was and what he could dare to do, while Lysandre decided to keep his cries for help all to himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> As everything else I ever write, this thing was inspired in a song (Intertwined by Dodie). I had this mental image of them cuddling like that, but I certainly didn't know how to give it a plot, until I watched the music video of this song, then looked up for the true meaning of it and... there it was. A love song that sounds so cute and endearing at the beginning, but that also reflects a relationship with many issues, full of fears, that's unhealthy, with imminent possibilities of turning to be harmful, but that at the same time all of this hidden under a lovely, soothing facade. Just like I intended this to be. So, I hope yall enjoy the results of what happens when I'm soft at 3 a.m and neglecting my homework.


End file.
